There is nothing to see when they look at me. I am marginal, small, insignificant and almost intangible.

I used to blame mobiles. People don’t look at each other anymore, so who am I to pretend they will notice my presence.

I thought I was destined to be this hollow entity forever.

But a pandemic happened like a miracle and here I was.

People self-isolated and overnight I was everywhere and vast, and those who dance were the first to notice.

People couldn’t see me still, ah, but they felt me. Damn right, they felt me.

I was this new thing in their life, introduced awkwardly. It was like telling the fish: ‘Hi, fish, meet water, get used to it’.

Overnight I got a fancy nickname: they started calling me ‘social distance’, which makes me visible, big, healthy. The king of every queue. Something to be feared.

They’re going to reduce me soon, they say.

But I know I’m staying in people’s minds. At least for a good while. And I am now much more than a gap to mind. 

Eventually, I will recede again, except for those who know me well, who play with me and make me theirs. With dancers I will stay.

They rhyme with me and draw my real name at every twist and embrace: I am the space in between. 

I am magic, in the end.